Chapter 277 Spiritual Slave

Mo Hua became interested.

He looked at it carefully several times and confirmed that the white-faced man's fireball technique did have some tricks and was different from ordinary fireball techniques.

Mo Hua wanted to study it further.

Scarface and the white-faced man had already stopped.

This was the Black Mountain Village, and they had to watch the mountain gate. If something went wrong due to a momentary grudge, they would all die.

So even if they fought, they would just stop after a brief fight and dare not really fight.

Mo Hua was a little disappointed.

He was still hoping that the two would fight to the death so that he could take advantage of the opportunity.

In the end, the thunder was loud but the rain was small. After a few moves, it was over.

Scarface and the white-faced man each said a few harsh words, and then sat together to drink bad wine, as if nothing had happened just now.

But between the glances, both of them had murderous intent in their eyes.

Mo Hua thought about it and was still very concerned about the white-faced man's fireball technique.

He now had a spell to save his life, but his attack spells were inferior.

Although the fireball technique is fast and accurate, its power is indeed average.

If he could learn the trick of the fireball technique from the white-faced man, he would not need to learn other spells and could enhance his means of attack.

Mo Hua was careful, so he began to follow the white-faced man during the day.

After the white-faced man finished his night watch, he went straight back to his room.

The white-faced man was just an ordinary evil cultivator. The room he lived in was no different from other evil cultivators. It was spacious, but the furnishings were messy and not bloody. There was only a big box in the corner.

After a night, the white-faced man looked sleepy. He rested for a while, then got up and began to meditate with his eyes closed.

Mo Hua looked a little strange.

This white-faced man didn't seem to use spirit stones when he practiced.

Without spirit stones, what could he practice? Practice air?

After a while, the white-faced man opened his eyes, and a trace of irritation flashed in his eyes.

He walked straight to the corner and opened the big box in the corner.

Mo Hua lay on the beam, looked sideways, and saw that the box contained a living monk!

The monk was pale and thin, hiding in the box timidly, not daring to make a sound.

The white-faced man ordered: "Come out."

The monk turned his eyes dully for a moment, and then walked out.

"Kneel down!"

The monk did not resist, and knelt down as he was told.

The white-faced man saw the man kneeling in front of him, his eyes were excited, and then he pressed his palm on his forehead.

The monk's spiritual power began to flow backwards, and then gathered from the white-faced man's palm to his sea of ​​qi.

The monk seemed to be used to being submissive, with a wooden look, neither resisting nor making a sound, like a piece of wood, a dead thing, bearing the fate of having his spiritual power squeezed.

In a cup of tea, the white-faced man absorbed all the spiritual power, and was satisfied, and his dead white face also became more red.

He patted the monk's face and said in a condescending tone:

"You must practice the skills I taught you well."

"You must remember that I saved your life and made you a 'spiritual slave'. It is a gift to you. Otherwise, you would have been sucked dry by other evil cultivators."

"You are still alive now, you should thank me!"

The white-faced man said, pointing at the box and said: "Go back, don't make a sound.

The monk who was regarded as a 'spiritual slave' walked back to the wooden box with a wooden expression, curled up in the box silently, without making any sound.

Mo Hua looked at it with chills.

He knew that the so-called spiritual slaves were to treat the monks as slaves and drain their spiritual power.

These monks are more like 'spiritual stones' that can move than people.

They actually regarded people as spiritual slaves and spiritual stones.

Mo Hua frowned.

As Elder Yu said, the monks here are indeed beasts.

The white-faced man sucked the 'spiritual slaves' 's spiritual power, and then began to meditate and refine it.

The spiritual energy of the spirit stone is pure, and the spiritual power of the cultivators is different.

Although it is easier and more convenient to refine the spiritual power of other cultivators, it will repel one's own spiritual power, causing evil and abnormalities, and it is easy to change one's mind and go astray.

Therefore, all spiritual absorption techniques are regarded as evil techniques and are not tolerated by the Dao Court.

This is what Zhang Lan told Mo Hua.

The white-faced man absorbed the spiritual power of the spirit slave, meditated and refined it, and his face changed constantly.

Sometimes he was ferocious, sometimes ecstatic, sometimes crazy, and sometimes mixed with pain and pleasure.

After a while, the white-faced man finished his practice and returned to his pale face and weak appearance, but his cultivation aura was indeed a little stronger.

The white-faced man was in a good mood and took out a book from the storage bag and read it attentively.

Mo Hua took a sneak peek and his heart skipped a beat.

The cover of the book was partially blocked by the white-faced man, but the two words revealed were "Fireball. "

Fireball technique!

Sure enough, this white-faced man practiced a special fireball technique!

If it was an ordinary fireball technique, there would be no reason for him to treasure it, carry it with him, and study it from time to time.

It's just that he carries the secret book of the fireball technique with him, and it's not easy for Mo Hua to steal it.

It seems that I can only wait for a chance later.

Before Mo Hua left, he glanced at the wooden box in the corner. In that wooden box, there was a spirit slave.

The spirit slave should not be old, but he was pale and thin, and his spiritual power was drained, so he looked much older.

Although he looks dull and expressionless now, he may have been a cheerful and kind boy.

I wonder if his parents know that he has fallen into the Black Mountain Village?

When he thought of this, Mo Hua sighed.

Now his cultivation is limited, and he can't save him at all.

If I succeed in cultivation in the future, I will kill these evil demons one by one!

Mo Hua thought angrily.

In the next few days, Mo Hua still concentrated on drawing the map.

One day, Mo Hua was a little hungry, so he went to the kitchen of the Black Mountain Village to find some food.

The kitchen of the Black Mountain Village was large and located in a remote location.

It was a little dirty inside, with blood stains everywhere, and the table was full of various pieces of meat.

Mo Hua didn't know what kind of meat these were, so he didn't dare to eat them.

He could only steal some wild fruits and cakes to fill his stomach.

Before he came, he didn't expect to stay in the Black Mountain Village for so long, so there was not much food in his storage bag.

Now the things in the storage bag have been eaten up, and he can only eat some evil cultivators' things to make do.

The wild fruits are a little sour and astringent, and the taste is not good.

It is estimated that the poisonous miasma in the deep mountains is too strong, and the water and soil are not good, so no good fruits can be produced.

The cakes are even more unpalatable.

Mo Hua took a bite and almost vomited it out.

It is far worse than what his mother made.

Mo Hua missed the food her mother cooked, and suddenly thought that she had stayed in Black Mountain Village for several days, and her parents had no news. She didn't know how worried they were.

Mo Hua sighed in her heart: "I should have told my parents first, so that they wouldn't worry."

But now that things have come to this, there is no point in regretting.

It is better to finish the map as soon as possible, find out the good news, and then go back early.

It also saves her parents from worrying.

Mo Hua nodded, and then endured the peculiar smell and swallowed the cake.

Although the cake is unpalatable, it can at least fill her stomach.

At this time, there is nothing to choose.

Mo Hua was eating, and suddenly heard someone talking.

The one who was talking was the old man who cooked in the kitchen, and the other voice sounded familiar to Mo Hua.

Mo Hua raised his head from under the table, took a sneak peek, and found that the other person was the fat monk.

The fat monk killed the thin monk, used the thin monk's head to ask for directions, and entered Black Mountain Village, but only got the job of delivering food.

The old man told the fat monk: "Give this meal to the young master, don't let him starve to death."

The fat monk nodded in response.

Mo Hua chewed the cake, but was suddenly stunned.

"Young master? What young master?"

Mo Hua frowned.

"It can't be...the young master of the Kong family."

Thanks to Uncle Yan and Dark Night Star for the reward~